


Day Twenty-Four: Memory Loss

by OBlossom



Series: Febuwhump 2021 [24]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: FebuWhump2021, Happy Hogan is a Good Bro, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, IronDad and SpiderSon, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Tony Stark Coparenting Peter Parker, Past Sexual Abuse, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Repressed Memories, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, nothing graphic!, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 06:22:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29696376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OBlossom/pseuds/OBlossom
Summary: The world that Peter knew wasn’t a place where people just offered to play guide to lost travelers. That’s why it was his job! And his spidey senses weren’t necessarily tingling—the discomfort sat like more of an itch at the base of his neck that he couldn’t rub away.  And it wasn’t a danger sense—Peter finally looked around to see what was happening around him. Maybe it was a warning? Or reminder? Whatever it was, Peter couldn’t see anything to trigger it... unless?Peter put his hand out in introduction. “I’m Peter.”The man smiled. “I’m Steve.”  He took Peter’s hand and gave it a shake. “So, coffee?”The itch grew stronger, but Peter wasn’t sensing any sort of imminent threat—not that Peter fully understood his senses half the time. He’d learned that a fire felt different from a mugging which felt different from a carjacking which felt different from a lost child, and so on... Maybe this was the case for Steve? Maybe, Peter decided, he should get some coffee and find out.Peter nodded in agreement. “Steve, you have no idea how good that sounds.”
Relationships: Happy Hogan & Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker/Skip Westcott
Series: Febuwhump 2021 [24]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2138958
Comments: 3
Kudos: 116
Collections: febuwhump 2021





	Day Twenty-Four: Memory Loss

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING! PLEASE READ
> 
> Okay, I decided to try the "Skip Westcott" thing-- and I promise that there is nothing graphic, but the discussion is there in reference to past events. 
> 
> Just be careful, please.
> 
> -Colleen xo

Day 24: Memory Loss

Working in medical engineering had been Peter’s dream for, well, forever. 

He just hadn’t known what to call it. 

It had been the middle of the night and he’d been at the compound for a training weekend. He’d been pouring over college catalogues and school information like a mad man and Peter was about ready weep for his frustration.

Everyone had been struggling after the final Snap, but he hadn’t expected this to mean that his guidance counsellor at school was going to check out, too. She had been ridiculously unhelpful that week and Peter had been left with gobs of paperwork and no idea where to start. He had no free time to speak of, so this was it... and the deadlines were closing in so damned fast. 

And that was when Mr. Stark had stumbled upon the young superhero. 

A couple of pots of coffee, some tissues, several different coloured highlighters, and the promise that Peter would pay Mr. Stark back for the application fees later, Peter had applied to MIT. 

And then, HOLY CRAP! Peter had gotten into MIT!

There were some conversations after that. The Avengers were going to keep a special eye on Queens for Peter while he was on campus, and Mr. Stark was going to keep a special eye on May because, well... someone needed to keep her safe while he was gone. 

Funnily enough, the May conversation had gone in a totally different direction. She’d been asked to participate as a supervisor in a nursing exchange program through the teaching hospital she worked. She had declined without hesitation simply because it was for eight months and in Mexico City, and, well... Peter. Peter’s MIT acceptance had put the option back on the table and within thirty minutes of that chat, Mr. Stark had given Happy his blessing to travel with May for the duration of her contract and May was on the phone with her boss, accepting the opportunity of a lifetime.

Things were changing, but change was good. He was certain that this was going to be the start of something amazing for the indomitable Peter Parker. 

* * * * * *

He tried to convince himself and his anxiety of that very fact. 

Yeah, he had a lot of work to do, but if he organized himself and double majored, not only would Peter be able to work at Stark Industries, he’d also be able to work with Mr. Stark AND Bruce Banner... not that he didn’t already, but this would involve healing and creating. Peter took a second to daydream. He, Peter Parker, could—wait... WOULD be interning in the SI prosthetics lab one day! – and if he played his cards right, he’d be messing with nanoparticles, too. Veterans, public servants, accident victims, folks with limb differences! Stark Industries could change the world... well, again, he guessed.

And so here he was. It was only the first full week of classes and he was already feeling like everything was getting away from him. His spidey sense was going nuts, in that ‘anxiety isn’t listening to me’ sort of way, he thought. With it being his first time away from home, everything felt different. Worse than that though, he still hadn’t been able to track down a good coffee spot. He’d stuck pretty close to the dorm and where his classes were for the most part for fear of getting turned around and lost. (-Which was definitely a problem for Peter for anywhere but Queens.) The coffee machines scattered through the common areas were not providing what Peter would call ‘palatable’ hot beverages and he was getting desperate.

... And then Peter heard the whisperings of something magical... something he’d be willing to risk it all for. There was a Dunkin’ Donuts somewhere on campus—the missing piece to his collection of post-secondary education essentials. 

He practically ran out of the lecture hall after getting some ridiculously vague directions from the guy sitting beside him with a renewed spring in his step—

His spidey senses glitched—warned him of something?

And he promptly collided with a tall, blond, all-American, football player type guy—the type of guy that would typically heft his type into a locker in high school barely five months earlier, save for the fact that this guy was definitely on the older side. 

“Oh, my goodness!” Peter’s eyes widened as he stepped back and took in the destruction his carelessness had cause. “Here!” He dropped to the floor and started collecting all of the books, pens, and loose papers he could reach. “I am so sorry! I’m such a klutz! Let me just...” he stretched to grab another pen when the bundle already clutched to his chest slipped free and tumbled again to the floor. Peter flushed red. “Oh, no—here, I can get this, I have it—“ 

“No worries.” The man stopped Peter. “This was my bad. I wasn’t looking where I was heading and should have realized people would be exiting the lecture hall.” He crouched down and started pulling some of his items towards himself, too. 

“No! It’s totally my fault,” Peter exclaimed and launched into one of his Peter rambles. “I’ve just found out that there’s a Dunkin’ Donuts on campus and I’ve been dying for like, a real cup of coffee since for-EVER ‘cuz the stuff I’ve had since I’ve gotten here is just blergh!” And Peter pulled in a breath. “I’ve also apparently forgotten how to look both ways when crossing traffic. I’m so sorry.” 

The man stared at Peter like he’d sprouted a second head while he waited for the word vomit to stop.

And Peter’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “Yeah, sorry about that...” he motioned to his mouth and then, “And sorry about that.” He pointed to the floor, wished secretly that it would open up and devour him, and sighed. “I’ll stop talking now.”

The man laughed. “Really, man, it’s fine. No harm, no foul, right?” He collected the last few bits from beside him and stood up. 

Peter straightened too, and in a final act of coolness, thrust the man’s papers out before him. “Here you go!”

The man laughed some more. “Dude. Relax. I promise, it’s fine...” the man looked at Peter for a second, and then continued, “In fact, let me show where the Dunkin’ is so you know there’s no hard feelings.”

It was weird, for Peter at least. The world that Peter knew wasn’t a place where people just offered to play guide to lost travelers. That’s why it was his job! And his spidey senses weren’t necessarily tingling—the discomfort sat like more of an itch at the base of his neck that he couldn’t rub away. And it wasn’t a danger sense—Peter finally looked around to see what was happening around him. Maybe it was a warning? Or reminder? Whatever it was, Peter couldn’t see anything to trigger it... unless?

Peter put his hand out in introduction. “I’m Peter.”

The man smiled. “I’m Steve.” He took Peter’s hand and gave it a shake. “So, coffee?”

The itch grew stronger, but Peter wasn’t sensing any sort of imminent threat—not that Peter fully understood his senses half the time. He’d learned that a fire felt different from a mugging which felt different from a carjacking which felt different from a lost child, and so on. He’d felt his senses tingle on behalf of others... like Mr. Stark almost dying on the battlefield, a young woman contemplating suicide on the top of a building, or even a dog about to bolt out into traffic. Maybe this was the case for Steve? Maybe, Peter decided, he should get some coffee and find out.

Peter nodded in agreement. “Steve, you have no idea how good that sounds.”

* * * * * *

Peter bought the coffee as an apology... the glorious bean water, the giver of life—and it was amazing. It didn’t taste burnt, it wasn’t watered down, it came in a cup (don’t ask, it was a whole thing) and Peter could put in as much sugar as he wanted. 

The company was pretty great, too. Peter hadn’t realized how much he missed talking to an actual flesh and blood human until he and Steve sat down to chat about nothing. It had only been a week of Peter and campus life, but it had been rough.

“So, Peter, I’ve seen you around campus and wondered what a kid like you would be doing in a place like this. Tell me about yourself?” Steve leaned back in his chair and took a cautious sip of his black coffee with two sugars. 

Peter wrapped his hands around his liquid gold. “Meh, there’s not much to tell. I’m from Queens. I’m a nerd. I like pineapple on my pizza and puppies... um—not on my pizza... the puppies, I mean.” He shrugged. Yes, he liked to word purge, but he wasn’t an idiot. He had too many secrets to just open up, no matter how lonely he was. He glanced at his Starkwatch. Not getting lost had bought him a bit of time so he asked, “Why don’t you tell me about you?”

Steve analyzed him from across the table and then started. “Well, I’m Steve. This is my first year at MIT. You’ve probably noticed that I’m a little older than your average student,” he smiled at that. “But that’s okay. Life through me some curveballs and my path changed.” Steve took another drink. “I got a degree in computers at my local community college, and I’m telling you, Peter, it changed my life. I’m a brand new person—and, yeah.” He grinned and looked around at the small cafe. “My plan, all those years ago, had been to come to MIT, but when that didn’t happen, I made it a goal to make my way back. Nothing was going to get in my way.” Steve stared off into the distance, lost in thought for a minute.

Peter rubbed at his neck, the feeling had settled in—didn’t seem to be going anywhere. And his new friend was still distracted by something. “Steve?”

Steve inhaled quickly, blinked away whatever had pulled him away from their conversation, and apologized. “Sorry about that.” He put his coffee down. “I know I’m here now, but then I think about where I could be instead...” He rubbed the back of his own neck and shook his head. “I promised myself I’d set things right once I had the chance, and then live the life I should have had. It’s so close, you know? All I have to do is reach out and...”

Peter was caught up in being impressed with the determined man in front of him. It was so incredible to see somebody fighting to come back from life’s challenges. Then something zinged down Peter’s spine and he was on his feet in an instant. He assessed the room, found absolutely nothing, but still felt so ridiculously uneasy. He needed to go now... he had to figure out what was going on. Peter made a show of checking his watch again. “Steve, I am so sorry! I’ve just realized that I’m supposed to be at my next lecture in a few minutes and I need to talk to the professor before class.”

Steve nodded in understanding. “I get that.” He looked at his watch, too. “Wow. Where does the time go?” He got up from his seat and grabbed his cup. “Did you need a walk back to your lecture hall or are you okay getting back?”

Pete declined. “I think I’m okay, thank you though.” He thumbed over his shoulder to the door. “Besides, I’ll never learn if I keep relying on the people I knock over.”

The both chuckled at the joke.

“Well, Peter, this was nice. Would you be okay if I called you and we could do it again? Coffee, I mean, not the knocking over.” He winked as he teased the young man twofold.

“Ha-ha. Funny.” He chided teasingly, “That sounds really great, Steve. We’ll make plans the next time I see you, deal?”

“Deal.” 

And with that, Peter bolted from the coffee shop, eager to investigate what the heck had just happened.

* * * * * *

It had been three days since coffee with Steve. The only plus side to all of this was that Peter had come to the realization that his anxiety wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d thought it was. That meant, however, that something was up... and he’d be damned if he could figure out what it was.

He finally broke down and called Mr. Stark.

“Underoos! To what do I owe the pleasure?

Peter was always happiest when he was talking with those he loved most, and Mr. Stark was definitely one of those people. “What? Can’t a kid just call because he wants to talk to his favourite mentor?” He poured on the puppy dog eyes, even knowing that Mr. Stark couldn’t see him.

“Ugh!” Mr. Stark groaned, “You’re doing it again, aren’t you?!”

Peter cackled, “Of course! I live you to make you nuts, Mr. Stark, even from two hundred miles away.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know you do, kid.” Peter could hear the affection in his voice, “Now really, is everything alright? Do I need to fly down there and beat up a professor for you? ‘Cause you know I will. I had this one prof—he taught Statistics, that bastard. He’d—”

“Mr. Stark?” Peter jumped in before Mr. Stark got too carried away, “Are you really offering to beat up—No. Of course you are. Ugh. Never mind. I don’t want to know. That’s not why I was calling.” Peter cleared his throat, suddenly wondering if he was overreacting.

“Roo? What’s up?” Of course, Mr. Stark knew.

Peter wasn’t sure how to start, until he did, and then the words were a torrent. “I know it’s only the first week, but I’ve had this weird feeling since like the second day and I thought it was anxiety but—Mr. Stark? After meeting with Steve, he’s this guy I met after I dumped his books all over, but anyways, I can’t tell what it is, you know? And he’s really nice, too, but the feeling was strongest when I was with him and now it won’t go away even though I haven’t seen him since we went for coffee and I don’t know if he’s the problem, like a ‘problem’ problem or if he’s in trouble and that’s the problem, you know what I mean? Did that make sense?” 

Peter knew his garbled verbal dumping made no sense even before he asked, but Mr. Stark spoke fluent Peter-ese and so he had faith.

A moment passed and then, “So, you’re telling me that your spidey senses were messing around, but you hadn’t realized it until you met this Steve guy, and they won’t settle now but you don’t know why. Right? ‘Cause that sounds right.”

Peter sighed in relief. “That’s exactly it, Mr. Stark—and if I were home, I’d just use Karen or FRIDAY, but I’m not so...” 

“Don’t worry, kid. I’ll take care of this, okay? You just worry about studying and staying away from all the frat parties and I’ll let you know what I find out.”

“Thanks.” 

“And I’ll work on something for your dorm. I can’t believe we didn’t think to send Karen along with you!”

“To be fair, it’s been a bit crazy lately, Mr. Stark.”

“Don’t make excuses for me, kid. Now, does Steve have a last name or are you going to make me work for it?” Mr. Stark asked. 

Shoot! “I’m sorry Mr. Stark, I don’t know it but—“ 

Peter’s phone suddenly alerted him to an incoming call from an unknown number. “Hold on Mr. Stark, let me just take this... it could be important.” Peter interrupted his own thought and then pressed a key to answer the call. “Hello?”

“Hi, Peter?” a male voice spoke.

“Yes, who is this?” Peter replied.

“Oh, good! The directory’s right. This is Steve. I’ve got some time and wondered if you wanted to do another coffee run.”

“Ummm...” Peter thought of the mystery that was Steve, and the fact that Mr. Stark was really two hundred miles away if he needed him. Wow. That felt far right then. Then Peter thought of the two papers he already had due in four days time and the notes he needed to recopy from his Intro Physics course. He needed to play it safe... just until Mr. Stark got back to him about everything. “Sorry, man. I’ve got some papers I need to work on, but maybe one day next week?”

Steve sounded disappointed. “Yeah, I guess we can wait a bit, but hey! If you need a hand with any of your work, let me know. I may not be a science guy, but I can proof read with the best of them.”

Peter smiled at the offer. “Thanks, Steve, I’ll let you know when I have a few minutes, okay?”

Steve agreed, and the call ended.

Peter came back to his call with Mr. Stark. “Speaking of...”

Mr. Stark perked up. “That was him? FRIDAY, grab his info from Peter’s phone and start searching databases, please.” Peter could hear him clapping his hands together with glee. “We’ve got a mystery to solve!” 

Peter couldn’t help it, “Jinkies, Mr. Stark! Just be sure Ol’ Mr. Miller doesn’t catch you in his mask factory, okay?”

Mr. Stark snorted out loud, “Hush now, don’t be a smart ass or I’m telling your aunt that you’re being mean to me.”

“Go for it,” Peter dared him, “You know she loves me best.” 

And Mr. Stark’s tone softened. “Of course she does, you goofball. No question about it. Now, is there anything else I can help with or is this it? I mean, I am me, so I can do just about anything—homework, hiding a body...”

Peter shook his head ‘no’ even though Mr. Stark couldn’t see him. “I’m good, I think. I’d really appreciate it if we could work this out, though. I’d love to have a coffee buddy—and the campus is pretty lonely even for all the people there.” 

“It’s only been a little over a week, kid. It’ll get better, I promise.”

The twinge of homesickness Peter had been tamping down flared, and his eyes burned. “I know, Mr. Stark. It was just nice to have someone else to talk to... and he’s trying so hard to work toward something he never thought he’d have and it’s, I don’t know—sort of inspiring?”

“Okay, that sounds like there’s a story there, but I’m going to find it and leave you to do all of your geniusy MIT stuff. Got it? BUT—if you need me, you call me, Peter. Anytime. I’ll always answer for you. Okay?”

Peter wiped away the single tear that escaped. “Okay, Mr. Stark. I’ve got it.”

“Good. I love you, kid.”

“Love you, too, Mr. Stark, and thanks.”

“Anything for you, kiddo.”

* * * * * *

Ironically, Mr. Stark was standing in the same spot Steve had been when they’d first met, though Mr. Stark was stationary, hands empty. He’d smiled stiffly as soon as he’d caught Peter’s eye and was grabbing his hand and leading him away from the chaos before Peter could ask what was going on. “Just come with me, kid.” He mumbled.

Mr. Stark led him to the administrative offices, and then directly into the office for the Head of Security where Happy was watching a barely tanned Aunt May pace the length of the room.

Peter looked at Mr. Stark and then to his aunt who was supposed to be in Mexico City. “Um, guys? What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

No one said a word, then a tall, bald-headed man with glasses came into the room. He addressed Mr. Stark, “Mr. Westcott has been arrested and taken into custody, sir.” He looked to Aunt May next. “Ms. Parker, you have our deepest apologies for not catching the deception sooner. Whatever you need from the school in order to resolve this will be at your disposal.”

May glared at the man, “Yes, it will be.”

The man nodded then looked at all of its occupants. “I’ll leave the office to you then. Please take as long as you need.” He exited, closing the door behind him.

And then Peter waited for one of them to start explaining.

... and waited.

Finally, Mr. Stark cleared his throat. “The man you know as Steve... Steve Conrad was admitted to MIT as a ‘non-traditional applicant’ after submitting his transcripts from Bunker Hill Community College in hopes of working on a Masters degree in Computer Programming. He was,” Mr. Stark paused and took a calming breath. “He was very good at what he did and more. Before applying, he managed to tweak some information—like his name.” Tony stopped to watch Peter’s reaction. 

“Okay? So who is he then? And what am I missing?” Peter was frustrated. 

May stood then. “Peter,” she approached him cautiously, “His name is Steven Westcott.”

Peter stared at her, blank faced. “And? Is that name supposed to mean something to me?”

May looked back to Tony, who stood behind her, her expression both helpless and hopeless. Her mouth moved a little, but no sound came out. He gave her a nod of support and she looked back at Peter.

Her chin quivered. “Do you remember Skip?”

The three adults in the room seemed to be expecting something, because even Happy stood up now, but it was pointless.

“May, I’m sorry, but I don’t know who you mean.”

May closed her eyes and released a long, slow breath. “Okay. We can deal with this. Yes, we can.” She was talking to herself, psyching herself up. She inhaled and then exhaled again. “And we’re good.”

She opened her eyes and focussed on the boy she loved like a son. “Okay, Peter, why don’t you come sit down and I’ll fill you in on everything.” She smiled as she looked at the two men in the room and then looked back at Peter. “Um, would you like to talk in private, sweetheart? Some of this may be a little...”She didn’t know how to finish the statement. 

Peter didn’t know what May was about to discuss, but he looked at Mr. Stark and Happy, and no part of him needed them to leave. He had few real certainties in life, and these two men were some of them. He met May’s eyes. “They can stay.”

Another look passed between them, and they moved to sit on the couch in the office, leaving two armchairs for May and Peter. They both sat.

And then May began.

“Peter, honey.” May grasped his hands in hers. “Steven Westcott used to live in the same apartment block as us. You knew him when you were seven years old, honey. He was seventeen.” She paused, waited for him to show some flash of recognition, but nothing. Her chin started to quiver. She whispered, “He was your babysitter... for a couple of months.”

Peter pulled his hands from hers and clutched the arms of the chair. “And?”

“Skip,” she started and then backtracked, “Well, Steven, but everyone called him Skip, you and he had developed a friendship. He chose to take advantage of that friendship and he... he...”

Peter almost closed his eyes, afraid to see her say it. “May? What...?” 

She looked took one of his hands back again, and squeezed, trying to keep him centered. “Peter, when you were seven years old, Steven Westcott sexually abused you. We,” she cleared her throat. “Ben and I found out when we came home from dinner and found him...” she inhaled, and then exhaled a few times. “We found him cleaning you.” The tears ran down her face. “Ben beat the ever-lovin’ shit out of him and then called the cops.” She squeezed his hand again. “He was tried, convicted, and sentenced to ten years in prison.  
Peter?” she looked sad now. “You know this.”

He shook his head vigorously, “No, I don’t. If I knew this, I would have remembered him, not sat down across from him and bought him a fucking coffee,” he hissed.

Her smile was so sad. “You were in therapy for as long as we could afford, sweetheart. One day you came out of your appointment as happy as a clam and when I asked why, you told me you got to play with legos and wanted me to buy you an ice cream cone. That night, the therapist and I spoke over the phone. She didn’t know if you were pretending or if you had legitimately put up a mental block, but to keep an eye out for any signs of issues. Ben and I watched you like a hawk, but suddenly everything was okay, so we didn’t question. You were our Peter again...” She brushed her other hand along his cheek. “And then things were normal for a little while.”

Peter didn’t quite know what to say to that, so he looked at Mr. Stark, who was wearing a look of complete devastation. He moved from the couch to kneel beside him. “I found out about the misinformation when I researched your ‘Steve,’ and called May only when I couldn’t get beyond a locked juvenile case file. Once that was dealt with I could figure out the rest. Steven had been planning to attend MIT and become an engineer when he was arrested. Having to be on a sexual offender registry messed with things, and MIT didn’t want a monster on campus so he was black-listed and told to never apply there again—even after he’d served his time. When he got out on parole, he headed to the good ol’ community college and learned everything he could about computers so he could...”

“... become a brand new person.” Peter remembered the coffee shop. “But—?”

Tony started again. “Peter, he hacked everywhere. He found out where you went to junior high, high school, and even hacked May’s email. That’s how he found out about here. He came to MIT because he blames you for everything he lost. He followed you, set up your little crash meeting, and, I’m sorry for being so blunt, but if he’d have had his way, you’d already be dead.”

Peter blinked, trying to process but short circuiting. “He’d have killed me...” he looked at Tony, “but I don’t remember him?” He looked to May.

She stared back at him, looking so sad. “And you don’t remember him.”

Peter blinked again. “I think I’m gonna—“

Happy was the hero of the hour, grabbing a wastepaper basket from beside the desk and thrusting it into Peter’s chest in time to save Peter’s dignity.

May and Tony rubbed his back and neck as he heaved and Happy peaked his head out the door to demand a bottle of water.

And when he was done?

“I wanna go home.”

May and Tony were there to support him as he straightened. “Of course, honey,” May whispered. “Just say the word.”

He needed to move before he couldn’t. “Now, please.”

And then Peter Parker wasn’t so certain of anything anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Twenty-four... officially sent out into the universe.


End file.
